SUBSTITUTE BRIDE FOR THE MAFIA DON

Dahlia’s POV

“Denise is gone!”

The scream tore through my sleep like a knife. My eyes flew open and my chest heaved as I gasped for air. For a second, I didn’t understand what was happening. My room was still dark, the pale morning light barely slipping through the curtains, but my heart already raced.

That was Mum’s voice.

I threw my blanket off and jumped out of bed, my bare feet hitting the cold wooden floor. My body felt stiff from sleep, but fear had me wide awake. I hurried to the door, my fingers fumbling on the handle, and pulled it open.

The sound had come from across the hall—Denise’s room. My twin sister’s room.

I rushed out, my nightdress brushing against my legs as I almost tripped over myself in my hurry. I didn’t even care how messy my hair looked or how my throat was dry and scratchy from sleep. Something inside me already knew this was bad. Very bad.

When I pushed open her door, the sight inside made me stop dead.

Mum was sitting on Denise’s bed, her whole body shaking as she clutched a piece of paper in her hand. Her hair had fallen out of its bun, strands sticking to her wet face as tears ran down her cheeks. She looked… broken.

My father was on the other side of the room, pacing like a caged animal. His face was red, his jaw tight, and his fists kept opening and closing at his sides. His heavy steps made the floor creak, and every time he turned, his eyes flashed with fury.

“Mum? Dad? What happened?” My voice cracked, and I hated how small and scared I sounded.

Mum looked up at me with eyes so full of panic and pain that my chest squeezed. Her lips trembled, and for a moment she couldn’t even speak. Then, in a choked voice, she said, “It’s your sister, Dahlia. Denise… she’s gone. She ran away.”

I blinked, trying to make sense of her words. “What do you mean… gone?” I whispered. The room felt suddenly smaller, like the air was vanishing. “She wouldn’t… she wouldn’t just leave.”

Mum’s hand shook as she held out the crumpled paper. “She left this letter. She said she couldn’t go through with the wedding. She said she couldn’t marry him. Oh, God…” Her words broke off as another wave of sobs hit her, and she pressed the letter to her chest as if it could somehow bring Denise back.

I stood frozen, my body stiff like stone. The wedding. Mr. Romano. My stomach twisted painfully as the truth sank in. Denise had run away on the morning of her wedding day.

Father suddenly slammed his fist against the wall with a loud bang that made me flinch back. “That stupid girl!” he roared, his voice deep and thunderous. “Does she have any idea what she’s done? Does she even care that she’s just signed all our death warrants?” His words echoed in the room like a curse.

Mum sobbed louder, her whole body shaking. She buried her face in her hands, rocking back and forth. “He’ll kill us… Romano will kill us. He made it clear—if Denise doesn’t marry him today, none of us will live to see tomorrow.”

My chest tightened so much it hurt. I felt like the floor was falling beneath me, like the world was tilting. Denise… my twin, my other half. We shared everything since birth—our looks, our secrets, our dreams. And now she was gone, leaving me to face this nightmare.

Father turned to me suddenly, his sharp eyes pinning me to the spot. “Find her, Dahlia,” he barked, his voice cold and merciless. “You and I both know Romano won’t care whose head he blows off first. If we don’t bring her back before sundown, we’re all dead.”

His words sliced through me, and I hugged my arms around myself, trembling. My throat burned with unshed tears, and I wanted to scream, to demand why this was happening to us, but the words stuck in my mouth.

The only sounds in the room were Mum’s broken crying, Father’s heavy footsteps as he paced back and forth, and the heavy thudding of my own heart that seemed to echo inside my ears. I stood there in the middle of it all, frozen, scared, and struggling to breathe as the truth pressed harder and harder against me—Denise was gone, and time was running out.

Suddenly, Mum’s head snapped up. Her swollen eyes, red from all the crying, locked on me with a strange kind of desperation. Her lips trembled as she opened her mouth, but when the words came out, they felt like a slap across my face.

“You will take her place, Dahlia,” she whispered, her voice weak but filled with finality. “You will marry Luca Romano.”

For a moment, I didn’t understand. My mind went blank. Then the meaning of her words hit me like ice water poured over my head. My whole body stiffened, and my eyes grew wide. “What?” I croaked, barely able to get the word out.

Mum stood up from the bed, clutching the letter in one hand like it was her last bit of strength. “It’s the only way,” she said, her voice breaking. “Romano can’t know she’s gone. If he does, we’re finished. But you, you can stand in for her. You’re twins. Identical.”

I shook my head violently, stepping back until my back hit the wall. “No. No, he’ll know. He’ll see it’s not her.” My throat tightened as I forced the words out.

Father stopped pacing and turned to look at me, his dark eyes hard and full of anger. “He won’t know,” he snapped, as if daring me to argue. “You two share the same face. The same body. Put on her dress, paint your face, and smile like she would. He’ll be too blinded to notice.”

My stomach twisted painfully. Yes, Denise and I were identical twins on the outside. We had the same black hair, the same eyes, the same smile. But we were not the same. We had never been the same.

Denise was the beautiful one. The one who lit up a room with her laughter. Everyone loved her, admired her, wanted to be her. She was bold and fearless, never afraid to speak her mind. She was the chosen one—the one Mr. Romano wanted.

And then there was me. The quiet one. The shadow. The spare. Where Denise was full of fire and life, I was dim, fading into the background. People always saw me second, if they saw me at all.

Tears stung my eyes as I looked between my parents. “He’ll know I’m not her,” I whispered, my voice breaking. “He’ll see the difference.”

Mum reached for me, her hands shaking so badly I thought she might tear the letter she was holding without meaning to. Her fingers were cold when they brushed my arm, and her eyes were wide and desperate, red from all the crying.

“Please, Dahlia,” she begged in a hoarse voice. “If you don’t do this, we’re all dead. Don’t you understand? He’ll put a bullet in our skulls before the sun goes down. Is that what you want? To watch your family die?”

Her words stabbed into me, over and over, until I thought I would bleed from the inside. My chest ached as if something heavy had been dropped on it. My breathing turned shallow, my lungs fighting to pull in air. My legs shook beneath me, weak like they could no longer carry my weight.

I wanted to scream. I wanted to cry. I wanted to tell them it wasn’t fair, that I wasn’t Denise and I never could be. I wanted to shout that I had my own life, even if it was small and unimportant compared to hers. But the words wouldn’t come. They got stuck in my throat, like sharp stones I couldn’t swallow or spit out.

Because when I looked into Mum’s eyes, I didn’t see anger or blame. I saw fear. The kind of fear that eats at you and never lets go. And when I looked at Father, pacing with his fists clenched, I saw rage so strong it was like fire burning in his eyes. That was enough to silence me completely.

What they didn’t know—what neither of them knew—was that I had seen Denise leave.